


Pschyoanalysis

by azriona



Series: Advent Calendar Drabbles 2012 [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Batman - Freeform, Crack, Drunkenness, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and John discuss the many, many differences between Sherlock Holmes and Batman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pschyoanalysis

**Author's Note:**

> Because I am lazy, I’m titling the “drabbles” with the prompt I was given. Today’s prompt is from jaded_angel8, who also requested Scarecrow/Jonathon Crane from Batman. I’m not familiar with the character, so I took some liberties; I hope she doesn’t mind. Not beta’ed or Brit-picked.

“The difference between Batman and Sherlock,” said John, who was really too drunk to be making any sort of reasonable comparison and wasn’t about to let that fact stop him from doing so, “is that Batman was driven by a sense of noble purpose. He’s always trying to avenge the senseless death of his parents by taking on his darkest fears. Whereas Sherlock is just bored.” 

“Has to be more than that,” slurred Greg, who wasn’t any less drunk than John, but couldn’t be arsed to find a different topic of conversation. “He’s a chemist, he could lock himself up in the lab and find a cure for cancer or AIDS or something. Or the secret ingredient to Cadbury Crunchie bars. That’d keep him occupied.” 

“Too altruistic,” said John, and decided that the ability to be half as pissed as he was, and still able to properly pronounce the word “altruistic” clearly meant he ought to be rewarded with another drink. 

“Catching serial killers isn’t altruistic?” 

“It’s not always serial killers. Sometimes it’s…” John thought. “All right, a lot of it is serial killers. And bunnies. There’s usually a bunny, and sometimes it lights up.” 

“What does it mean when a bunny lights up?” wondered Greg. 

“It means he ran out of nicotine patches,” said John, and laughed so hard he nearly fell off the chair. 

“The difference between Batman and Sherlock,” said Greg, who hadn’t noticed John nearly falling off the chair, “is the costume.” 

“Sherlock doesn’t wear a costume,” said John. 

“Of course he does,” insisted Greg. “Great big wool coat that’s practically a cape, tailored suits and leather shoes. It’s just not a _stupid_ costume. And they both wear hats.” 

“That’s not a difference, that’s a simlia— slimier— _sim-il-air-it-tea_.” 

“Ridiculous hats, with ear… thingies.” Greg made some sort of wavy motion over his head. John thought he might be signaling for an air missile strike, or maybe another lager. He hoped it was for a lager. 

“Sherlock has very nice ears,” said John wistfully, and then drained the lager that had mysteriously appeared before him, mostly so he didn’t have to look at Greg. 

But Greg was already staring at John with wide eyes. “Christ, man. You’re Robin.” 

“I am not, I’m paying for this drink,” said John. 

“No, you’re _Robin_ , you’re the sidekick. You follow Sherlock around and give him a reason to explain his thought process and you wear goofy clothes.” 

“I do not!” 

“Look at yourself in the _mirror_ , John. Jumpers are not meant to be green and red and purple.” 

“It’s a _Christmas_ jumper. And if I’m Robin, you’re the police commissioner.” 

“At least he didn’t wear ridiculous clothes. Or ear hats. I’ll buy you a green cape for Christmas.” 

“This conversation has seriously deteriorated,” said John. 

“D’you think when Robin was saying ‘holy bananas’, he was really saying, ‘Batman, you’re amazing, you’re a genius, you’re fantastically clever, God I want to shag you senseless’?” 

John dropped his forehead onto the bar. “Piss off.” 

“The difference between John and Robin,” said Greg, wobbling a little on the chair, “is Robin isn’t old enough to drink.” 

“I am too drunk for this conversation,” said John, and fell off the chair. 

Greg looked down. “Who’s Alfred? Mrs Hudson, or Mycroft?” 

“Mrs Hudson,” said John from the floor. “Mycroft is Morgan Freeman.” 

“I’ve got it. The difference between Sherlock and Batman is that Sherlock doesn’t have the Batmobile.” 

“Too hard to park in London,” said John. “And it drives on the wrong side.” 

“We should get him a Batmobile,” said Greg, and then joined John on the floor. 

* 

Christmas morning, John gave Greg a torch with a hat stenciled on the lens. 

Greg gave John a green cape. 

Sherlock found a small model-scale Batmobile, and didn’t understand why John couldn’t stop laughing.


End file.
